Coming back from Paris. A beautiful weekend spent in Burgundy tasting wine and driving through the small villages of France. Perfect — except without Mike who would have loved it. Makes me think of traveling with him for the rest of our lives — getting to — married. Sometimes it still doesn’t seem real, the word, married, the word husband.

I’m supposed to be on a plane to Paris right now but I’m in Chicago instead. Delays and I missed my connection, so here I am once again in the city of you, city which I found you, including where I wished I found you. Held, held over. There are lights, each one — it is fall here. I feel you tonight, the breath of leaves.